Movie Buff: A Spoileriffic Review of About Time

Tim (no last name I guess?) has the unusual ability to travel back to any point in his life. You and I do not, therefore, if you wish to read more, you must read after the break.

Bibliophile: Looking for Love in all the Wrong Genres at University College of the North

“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye 

I'm having my wisdom teeth removed Wednesday morning. Which, given my body's typical state of recovery, means the rest of that week is shot. And Tuesday's shot thanks to a tour I'm going on for out-of-academia job opportunities (because post-graduates must take what they can get), the end of the class I'm sitting in on (always fun to watch projects I don't have to do), a meeting with my supervisor (in which I explain that I won't be working on that dissertation thing until the teeth are better), and shopping (for some non-chew-heavy food). I'm pretty thankful for Monday, which is obviously against the natural order of things.

But you're not here for that. You're here for the books. Let the books be our guide. 

This week, we're touring the new books at Manitoba's University College of the North. The tour begins after the break.

TV Talk: How I Talk About Meeting Your Mother

To say that How I Met Your Mother has been slow going this season is an understatement. It's been in a slump, and it isn't aging particularly well. A large part of the problem is the show's central concept, that the Ted character is telling a prolonged story to his kids about how he met their mother. Presumably, then, the show ends with the line "...and that's how I met your mother." The problem with approach--or at least one of the problems--is that it means that your main character's story arc is already set: he is the one who will meet his "true love" and there's only so much you can do with introducing "potential mothers" before it feels as if you're teasing the audience. So the show tries to distract with its other running plots. This season, it's the Barney/Robin love connection, the mystery of Barney's wedding (which we've seen in flashforwards, thanks for adding that phrase to the TV lexicon, Lost), and Lily and Marshall's attempt to have a baby. The immediate problem with the show is that with the exception of the wedding frame, these are all plot lines we've seen before. This season seems to be a clearing of the deck--Barney's put his womanizing ways behind him, and Ted has resolved two of his longstanding love affairs, the chef girl from Season 1 and the Season 1 Slutty Pumpkin. (On the former: the show's a lot more tolerable if you imagine it ending when he meets the chef. On the latter: don't ask. The explanation's less interesting than the phrase.) But really, it's been more about wallowing in the past than moving forward. And while moving forward is not really a traditional strength of the laugh-track sitcom, HIMYM usually does a better job of at least presenting an illusion of such progress.

Last night's episode, (he said, finally getting to the point)was a welcome departure, not so much because it depicted anything radically new, but because it played to the strengths of the show, namely, its romantic flair and its focus on the subjectivity of memory. We tend to take for granted that what we see in a sitcom is what's actually happening in the fictional world. At times, HIMYM breaks this convention, drawing on the fact that it is not just a world that we're glimpsing into, but a story told by an unreliable narrator. (Which is why, as I continually argue with a friend, you have a father you sounds like Bob Saget, but, in his own memory, looks and sounds like Josh Radnor. It's not a point requiring a suspension of disbelief, it's part of the show's basic conceit!) I've discussed this great, boring length elsewhere, so I won't rehash it all now. Last night, that element is brought to the forefront. First, there's the A plot. (Oh, spoilers abound, folks.)

Barney and Robin slept together last episode, which means they are both cheating on their respective partners. Through one of those ridiculous coincidences sitcoms are built on, they have to go to a boat party with these partners, and thus see not only the person they cheated on, but the person seeing the person they cheated with. (But the contrivance allows for a guest spot from Alexis Denisof, so I'm not going to complain too loudly.) They're both feeling guilty, and thus, through their interpretation, the live band is singing a song directly to them, telling them to confess. In the B plot, the subjectivity is even more evident. Lily, Ted, and Marshall are attending a concert, and Ted and Marshall go through a drug trip. They think they spend hours wandering the stadium, encountering bizarre figures and hearing odd nonsequitors. In reality, as we see through a security camera, they stumbled around for two minutes, and we revisit the whole scene through that perspective (there's a brilliant double use of the line "It's a sign."). The actual plot point--that Marshall is worried about becoming a dad, and Ted's insecure about losing his friends to parenthood--has already been done multiple times this season. And as my brother pointed out, that is not how people high on pot actually act (though if my parents read this, I assume he got this knowledge from friends, because OF COURSE my brother has never smoked any pot, ever). But it's still a clever use of both the show's concept and a reversal of the audience's confidence in what they're viewing.

Equal kudos has to go to the way the A plot was handled. It's very easy to set up villains and victims in a cheating partner plotline, and it's not the sort of situation that lends itself to laughs. And for the most part, it doesn't. I was impressed with how maturely the plot was handled. Barney and Robin are, obviously, conflicted--they don't want to hurt anyone, and they don't know exactly how they feel about each other. It's the sort of thing that could have been drawn out too far, but both of them have frank conversations with their partners and with each other about their futures. No one's demonized, no one's transformed into a pure victim (although Nora comes close) and the situation is resolved through rational discussion rather than explosive, cheap emotional theatrics. It's a glimpse at adult relationships that haven't been filtered through some overly romantic lenses. And with spoiling even further, one stays with their partner, and one doesn't, and the look on the face of the one who leaves their partner for their friend when they realize that they've made the jump and been left alone is just devastatingly well-acted, and definitely a caliber of performance rarely seen in this genre. Chris Harris, the writer of the episode, also deserves some major props. He's been a writer for the show a long time, and last night, he really showed he understands how to play to its strengths.

Later Days.

Kids, Always Remember to Wear Gloves

I've been looking back over "review" style posts, and one thing that seems to be relatively scarce is reviews of TV shows that I'm watching, which, frankly, is odd, because between you, me, and the lamppost, I watch a lot of TV. It's possible that I've spent more time watching TV in a given week than reading books (you know, my actual work), reading comics, and playing video games and watching movies all together. I justify this huge time-hole by the statement (and truth, BTW) that the driving impetus behind virtually all my academic work is the observation and dissection of narrative discourse, and TV falls into that category (well, technically, all experience falls into that category, but TV gets included.) At the moment, I'm deeply committed to a plethora of shows that includes Big Bang Theory, Full Metal Alchemist, and Batman: Brave and the Bold, all quality television. But the big *MOMENT* of this week (and I'll admit, the week's not over yet, there's still the big Thursday Night shows) comes from a fond favorite, Chuck.

Not a lot of people know about Chuck, which is always disappointing to me. It's a great show. It combines romance, comedy, and action in a way that hasn't been done consistently on television since Alias started sucking a few years back. The plot is fairly simple: through the show's one and usually only sci-fi twist, Chuck Bartowski, nice-guy and all-around loser who's wasting his life at a low level tech job at a Future Shop equivalent--accidentally gets the CIA mainframe hardwired into his brain. Now, he has a secret life as a government James Bond-esque spy that he needs to balance with his regular life, and two handlers: the romantic/platonic interest, Sarah, and the gruff Casey (played by the always great Adam Baldwin). The show is deftly supported by a wonderful supporting cast, which includes the general giving them their marching orders, Chuck's high achieving doctor/sister and her boyfriend Captain Awesome (long story) and Chuck's fellow BuyMore employees, which include a post Arrested Development Tony Hale. Other current, ridiculously cool guest stars include Quantum Leap's Scott Bakula (we don't talk about Enterprise) as Chuck's father, and Chevy Chase as the leader of the evil terrorist group Fulcrum.

And that's part of the show's current problem. For reasons that I can't fathom, the show's ratings have struggled this season--I blame the fact that it's been shackled to its partner show, the great big bowl of suck that Heroes has become. And rumour has it that it needs to cut down on its huge, awesome cast, because it takes up a lot of cash. So it's got two things against it. But it's a Josh Schwartz production, and, season 3 of the OC beside, that means between this and his other show, Gossip Girl, you're guaranteed an hour of goodness.

Normally, even though the episode of Chuck will be good in a given week, it will be eclipsed by the sheer incredible genius of Gossip Girl. But this week, it was the other way around. Aside from vast, show-altering spoiler-ridden developments, my favorite part came in the early scenes. The platonic relationship between Chuck and Sara suddenly becomes much less platonic. They're currently on the lam, and do the traditionally charged "bed sharing moment," and wake up with the comedy gold that is unintentional spooning--and then the show goes somewhere else. I found a video that I'm putting below:


As you can see, the comedy transitions into saccharine hand-holding, which in turn goes to hot-and-heavy, which goes back to comedy, with the traditional "IOU one Condom." I'm not sure if this clip can entirely convey what is basically the end result of two seasons of build-up, but it really struck me as a wonderful scene. It's the sweetest thing on television since Pushing Daisies was canceled, and it segues into the most erotically charged scene on television since... um... well, since the last episode of Gossip Girl.
The whole thing reminds me of an episode of another wonderful Monday night show, which I'll be blogging about sooner or later at much greater length: How I Met Your Mother. Specifically, the episode where Ted gives a toned-down version of Marshall and Lily's reunion, featuring them hanging out in a bar at a very reasonable time, drinking glasses of "milk," and "holding hands," which builds until another character goes to the washroom, and catches them "holding hands" in a bathroom stall.

HIMYM: classiest show on television.

Two good shows. Watch 'em, and know quality.

Later Days.